After reading Race and Culture last month I decided that my original assessment of Thomas Sowell had been wrong. A Conflict of Visions was dreadful, but he’s redeemed himself in my eyes. Race and Culture addressed complex problems without stooping to BLAME WHITE PEOPLE, which sociological texts on race so often do. The book should technically be called “Ethnicity and Culture” but regardless, he addressed a lot of relatively apolitical issues very logically, and it was a compelling read. (Like the tradition of Jews eating Chinese food on Xmas probably started because high concentrations of Jews and Chinese lived together on the Lower East Side. Immigrant business owners tend to keep their businesses open longer hours in order to be of convenience to the masses.)
And thus I move on to Vision of the Anointed.
Lest anyone think that I am overly pretentious, for the record, I am also reading The Long Winter (Book 6 of the Little House on the Prairie series) for about the one-billionth time and I was reading tabloid-y magazines at B&N on Friday. I simply have to know the details of Nick and Jessica’s break-up!!! Well, not really, but I was briefly addicted to the show ‘Newlyweds’ in Fall 2003, because it made me realize that no matter how annoying a girlfriend I am, I would never be as bad as Jessica Simpson.
I have a red sweater on today and people keep coming in and being like “Oh, you look so CHRISMAS-y!” If I wore blue and white would I look Chanukah-y? Or would I need to wear my Star of David necklace for that?
These are the important questions in life, obviously.
It’s the day that all December applications are due, and all of mine are officially in. I do have to offer up a giant “Fuck You” to Columbia University for their asinine policy of not holding themselves responsible for a huge problem with their online application that froze the recommendation pages, so professors couldn’t upload their recommendations. (This was discovered on Monday. Their basic answer for me was “Well it should have been in already” I am ALL for sending things in early, but if the deadline is December 15, submitting something on the 12th is perfectly acceptable. They didn’t do anything to inform applicants that the system wasn’t working, nor are they accepting documents that get their late as a result. When I checked this mornign, the problem still hadn’t been fixed. (This has apparently been a problem since last Wednesday. I found out about it on Monday. This is plenty of time for them to have informed people to send things by regular mail) So, fuck you Columbia. You should be using Embark like ALL THE OTHER SCHOOLS USE FOR ONLINE APPLICATIONS BECAUSE IT ACTUALLY WORKS.
Grrrr. Anyway. The applications are in. They are out of my hands. Cross your fingers for me.
I’ve just finished Ignorance by Milan Kundera. It was a lovely little novella. What I adore about Kundera is the way in which he seamlessly blends philosophy into his narrative. He is nothing short of lyrical. He uses very little dialogue. He captures a train of thought
This guy I used to know was mildly befuddled by the way my mind worked. The way it was never quiet, keeping me away as it delved deeply into each topic is jumped to – because his mind worked so differently. So one night, when I couldn’t sleep, I just wrote down a train of thought. I used a lot of parenthesis for the asides, in many cases double sets of parenthesis. There’s no way I could explain to someone the way I think. I had to show it by writing down what I was thinking. That’s what Kundera does. There’s very little action, and even less conversation. But you understand so well what’s going on, and why the characters are doing things, because you’ve read their thoughts. This isn’t a unique device, but the way in which he wields it is so insanely…evocative. I don’t necessarily remember the characters names, or the details of the plot, but I remember the asides.
I can’t say I try to emulate him, because I was writing in a long-winded, descriptive style long before I read my first Kundera novel (The Incredible Lightness of Being, which is simply beautiful) but it’s always nice to find an author who has perfected the art of the overwrought. Kundera has also “literary zinged” me, hardcore.
I’m sitting on my balcony, looking at the skyline, thinking ‘blaaaah, I don’t want to go to work tomorrow’ and not wanting to study for the GREs, and well, I love lists, so:
What I Learned On My Summer Vacation
Or What I Learned In The Process of Job Searching, Apartment Hunting, Moving, and Other Assorted Growing Up Adventures
1) The Job Search is often a number games. Where you got your BA doesn’t matter. What you majored in matters even less. It is a matter of sending out hundreds of resumes, going on dozens on interviews, and even fewer second interviews. I am very, very lucky to have landed a job at a place I actually want to work.
2) New York is fucking hot in the summer
3) I can only like, (I mean, like, like) a guy maybe one every two-three years. I was trying to explain to a friend of mine who goes through men, well, rather frequently, that I just don’t LIKE most guys. I get Serious-All-Consuming Crushes once every few years. And then they last and last until I either make him fall madly in love with me, or wind up getting rejected. And even after I get rejected I tend to hold on to Serious-All-Consuming-Crush until something new comes along and distracts me. Which happens maybe once every two to three years.
4) No matter how bad a day was, when you wake up the next morning and can see the sun rise over the Hudson, life is pretty damn good
5) Williamsburg and Park Slope, while “nice” are full of hipsters, which remind me too much of Hampshire students to live there. I live in Jersey City, fuck the stigma, my apartment is nicer and cheaper than anything I saw in either of those neighborhoods.
6) I have a little world for myself in Saratoga that welcomes me with open arms whenever I want to make the drive up there.
7) The cliché “sometimes it’s holding on that makes you strong. Sometimes it’s letting go,” is very true. It isn’t easy to do, but sometimes it’s the only thing you can do. Hobbes was completely right.
My best friend knows me disgustingly well. Actually, I already knew this, but I was reminded of it a lot this summer.
9) Hell is the 14th Street PATH station at three in the morning when its 100 degrees and insanely humid out. And you’re very, very drunk.
10) That I will be able to befriend random guys whereever I go because of my ability to take a shot of cheap vodka without flinching.
11) That I might actually want to go to school in Texas, because I love going to country-music bars
12) There are way too many pretty people in New York, and this makes me feel extraordinarily ugly on a regular basis
13) I discovered Strand bookstore, and I feel uneducated wandering through the history section there because there are just SO MANY books that I have not read.
14) I belong in academia. This real world this is a good experiment, a good test, if you will, a good way to make me appreciate academia, when I make a triumphant return to it’s hallowed halls in Fall 2006. I belong in academia, be it at Columbia or in Texas or Oregon or where ever and I will not let the fact that one person told me he saw me climbing the NYC ladder affect my choices, because clearly, he had no clue who I was anyway.
15) I need to focus. Fall is for new beginnings. So here’s to a lot of GRE studying, Grad school applications, going out and being social, and reading all those books I bought.
Did any of you ever read “Dear Mr. Henshaw” in elementary school? The premise of the book is this kid starts writing letters to this favorite author when he’s quite young, and as he gets older he writes more frequently. The kid is kind of a loner, so he’s writing this author about all his issues and finally Mr. Henshaw is like “Dude, stop stalking me.”
So Leigh (who is aware that he has a girls’ name. Leigh can be a boy’s name but then it should be “Lee,” like WTF was the point of that Beverly Clearly?) continues to write letters to Mr. Henshaw, but he doesn’t send them. About 2/3 through the book he starts a page “Dear Mr. Henshaw,” crosses it out and says “I have learned to put down my thoughts on a piece of paper.” The rest of the book the entries are just dated.
But the point is, Leigh couldn’t just write for himself. He had to have an intended audience, even though the audience wasn’t going to read what he wrote. That’s what I meant about writing for an audience, I think. There’s nothing worse than writing about writing, but I will write more on this when I am feeling more articulate.
**********
Instead of writing ANYTHING, I should be attempting to get things I order. I move in a week. My room here is a mess. I am making the painful decisions of what books to bring. I am anxiety-ridden because the girl who is moving out is being a pain, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to move in on that Sunday anymore, and it will probably become a hassle of moving after work and my parents will be away that week, so I’ll have to con Brent into helping me.
But employment has certainly made me feel like I belong in New York. I like the walk from Port Authority and wandering around at lunch and such. I am amused that I can stand on Broadway between 52nd and 53rd and see three Starbucks. There are lots of cute boys. THERE IS A CREPE VENDOR THAT SELLS $3 CREPES!!! I was at my apartment on Thursday night to drop off my deposit, and the Newport area is so pretty at night (it was a particularly pretty sunset) and to get there you have to take the Pulaski Skyway which makes it cooler.
I am re-reading Hobbes and Rousseau even though there are a great many books I want (need) to read.
I’m no hippie and I know my radical libertarian ideas (beliefs?) have no place in reality. I have enough reason to determine that if people ever wake up and start wanting the government to back off, it would be in tiny, incremental ways.
Hobbes argues for a strong sovereign, one whom we will accept tyranny from because his tyranny is paradise compared to the state of nature. I’m not quite into this Hobbesian idea of implicit consent (though I do think it applies in certain circumstances) but his view of human nature is what makes me, only half jokingly, call myself a Hobbesian princess. .
Human energy is self-directed, hence free, but the slightness of individual strength against nature makes cooperation – “society” – a necessity, thus a fact of life. That’s how Rousseau steps in, but I don’t agree with Rousseau that humans were peaceful in the radical individualism that characterized early man.
“The social order is a secondary phenomenon, an abstraction from the myriad of free choices. I feel as if we are in need of another awakening, another discovery of freedom.”
And for the record, yes, I do love a man who appreciates the sanctity of the Constitution.
I’m bored, but my new goal is to be the most well-read receptionist in history.
A couple of weeks ago, I was watching “Love, Actually” with Evan. Evan and I don’t see each other that often, so he still kind of buys my tough as nails image. And then there’s scene, where Andrew Lincoln shows up on Keira Knightly (his best friend’s wife) doorstep and tells her “To me, you are perfect, and my wasted heart will always love you.”
And, I get all teary eyed. Because he walks away, whispering to himself “Enough. Enough now.”
And then Emma Thompson calls her husband out on cheating on her and yells “you have made my life ridiculous,” and I lose it, because Emma Thompson is awesome and her voice is all raw, and then she has to pull it together to meet her kids. So, I cry. Again.
“You are such a sap,” Evan tells me. “Is this why you won’t watch movies with other people?”
Me: god i love nietzsche. he is my philosopher boyfriend. his writing is hot
Brent: That’s frightening. He’s anti-semitic and misanthropic
Me: And I’m attracted to both of the above qualities
Brent: I suppose, but Nietszche bothers me. He blames woman and Jews for all the worlds problems
Me: Yes. But he does so in a very appealing manner.
Other men competing for my affections:
Jon Stewart (especially Jon Stewart), Edward Norton circa Primal Fear, F.A. Hayek, and Billy Joel
I realize, my crush on Hank Rearden has dissipated some (but I haven’t read Atlas Shrugged in quite a while, because it will make me cry) but if he and Fransisco want to fight over me, I would be all for it. So long as they don’t invite John Galt.
And I’d say Paul Johnson, but he’s 70+. Which is somehow more bothersome then the fact that F.A Hayek and Nietzsche are dead, and Hank Rearden is a literary character
Me: I’m reading a 900 page book on German History from 1770-1866
Brent: Hot!
“I am so tired of that stupid cave”
~Brent on the Allegory of the Cave
Me: The exorcist wasn’t scary at all
Brent: That’s only because it didn’t play on your personal paranoia; the supernatural = impossible, a hockey-masked killer = possible
Me: Yes, exactly
Me: I never really worried about getting possessed
Brent: Right, because a demon would be rooting around inside you for a soul, find nothing, and leave the way he came in
Me: Well, Road to Serfdom & Failure of Socialism are both on my bookcase if you want to use them
Ben: I know, and Road to Serfdom is all highlited and margin noted. I want my own copy
~This makes me so proud! My younger, wiser sibling is going to go to UChicago and turn into a drunken Straussian.
Whenever I think that my zen-like-ness has transferred me from a political animal
(and speaking of political animals, thank you perfect memory for being able to discuss what Aristotle meant by political animal based on reading from GO 103, two years ago in Modern on Wednesday, because it made me look smarter than I really am.)
into a calm, resigned, apolitical, voter-for-Badnarik, person, I’ll read something that will remind me how much I hate George W. Bush, and how angry he can make me, and I remember why I doubt the intelligence of people who would actually want to vote for him, even though that is technically judgemental and wrong.
That was quite a long sentence, and I am Stephen King-like (Bachman reference! which book was this in?) in my use of parenthesis. Speaking of Stephen King, I saw the newest and last Dark Tower (why the hell did Stephen King decide to write all three and then release them within a few months of each other. My dad and my brother have been bitching about the Dark Towers not being out for years. Why couldn’t he just have released 5 when it was done, and then written 6, etc, etc, because who has the time to read a million pages of creepy, sociopathic-ish writing all at once) at B&N yesterday, and the cover is freaky. And they are remaking “IT”, and telling it from Beverly’s point of view, and it will possibly suck even more than the first movie, because it’s hard to make a movie out of a book that 1100 pages, and shut up everyone, because the ending DOES make sense. And “Derry- The Last Interlude”; so,so,so,so sad.
And “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”? Advice recieved on this movie: “Ug, don’t watch that movie. It’s the type of movie that makes you want to get back together with your ex-boyfriends, and makes you glorify the good parts of every stupid fling you ever had” Heh. The movie is quite decent, and Kate Winslet if gorgeous, and it’s the first ‘Jim-Carrey-as-a-dramatic-actor’ movie I’ve seen. Except I cried so hard I think I scared my housemates. Yes.
I am left with extra time getting ready for work this afternoon, so I feel obligated to tell everyone that, looking at the books I have been reading lately, I have realized that my destiny is not, unfortunately, to become an insane empress who can peer owlishly at the Diet through a speech rolled up like a telescope.
I am going to be one of those insane old guys on the history channel, doing commentary on one of those documentaries. Except, you know, I’ll be a chick. I’ll be like the old women who are always on the Holocaust documentaries telling about their time in the concentration camp, except I’ll be slightly younger, hipper, and tattoo-less.
Yeah, that was tasteless.
First I need to get qualified for this job, because you can’t become an insane commentator on the history channel over night. I’ll probably have to go to grad school eventually and get my degree in some obscure historical specification. And then I will become a professor. But I’d be a cool professor, well, cool by my standards at least. I would find the one girl in every class who was just as loserly as I was at her age and bond with her, and if she was under 21, I would buy her alcohol, because that’s what a good professor does!
I would also marry someone who was really intellectual, but disagreed with me on stuff, like for example, someone who thought “appeasement was the right policy for Britain and France in 1939″ (it wasn’t, and i actually don’t think any intelligent person would really think this, but I’m just using it as an example). Anyway, that way we could get into petty fights about our disagreements, and if we had kids, we could put them in the middle of it. Like, my husband would take the kid out for ice cream and tell them all about how appeasement was the right policy, and then I’d get really mad and make him sleep on the couch and somehow make it to seem like that is what he wanted because it’s a form of appeasement.
I’m still working on the details.
Employee Appreciation Weekend at b&n is the best thing ever. Now I have lots of new books, and I have to brag.
I got Machiavelli’s Discourses because I loved “The Prince” and because ‘Machiavelli is right about everything’ and I got Nietzsche’s Basic Writings, because I think I should read some Nietzsche before I graduate. John Locke’s Essay on Human Understanding, because as anyone who took AP US History I at IHHS knows “it’s all about John Locke!” Oh! And The Edmund Burke Companion, because he is ‘the original traditional conservative’ and I talked about him so much in my honors research that I want to read more. I also could not resist Ayn Rand’s The Voice of Reason because I am a sucker for all things Rand. I bought another copy of The Virtue of Selfishness, because I don’t know where mine went, and I finally own The Early Ayn Rand, probably solely for the story “The Husband I Bought” which is one of my favorite short stories era. And I got Peter Lawler’s Aliens in America because it’s been recommended to me by so many people that I figured I should probably read it.
Than I got The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich because Brent speaks so highly of it. And The Rise of Fascism, because I am slightly obsessed with the fascist ideology.
And there were 4 books from the series The Birth of Civilization (or smtg) so I got Rousseau and Revolution, The Age of Napoleon, The Reformation, and The Age of Louis XIV, because I adore Modern European History. And Germany, America, and England – Foreign Policy From 1918-1938.
And I got The Grammar of Politics and Philosophy because I am obsessed with words, and speaking of which, I had an entire conversation on Saturday night with one of my co-workers on Edith Wharton’s use of syntax, because the way in which she phrases things is just perfectly Victorian and so effective and awesome, and I adore her, so I had to buy The Cambridge Companion to Edith Wharton because I love encyclopedic junk like that. Which is also why I bought The Oxford Companion to Philosophy because the decathlete in me likes to keep names and dates and basic ideas ordered in my mind.
For my mass-market side I purchased Stephen Kings Dark Tower V & VI, even though I never finished III, and never read IV. My brother will appreciate them until I can get through them. I also picked up some ‘beach reads’ stuff to read if I actually get to the shore this summer.
For my nostalgic side, I got Becoming Laura Ingalls Wilder, which is a slightly scandalous take on her and her daughter’s life. I have loved the Little House on the Prairie books since I was about 4, and I re-read them at least once a year, so I’m oddly fascinated by her, and her daughter, because Rose Wilder was actually a crazy libertarian pioneer and wrote The Discovery of Freedom: Man’s Struggle Against Authority. (which I highly recommend, though it’s out of print and often expensive.) But speaking of Rose, I bought Old Home Town¸ by her, because I’ve never read any of her prose, and since she had such a big hand in editing the Little House books I’m curious to see how she writes.
I think that’s it. I got most of this stuff used; The Sale Annex + employee discount = BEST THING EVER. I am in geek-heaven.
Me: (Commenting on Brent’s poor driving) You’re drifting to the right
Brent: Shut up stupid, you’re drifting to the right
This is sort of true.
Also, as everyone knows, I have crushes on literary characters. However, I recently realized that this is nothing new for me. I never had crushes on stupid teen stars I had crushes on characters in books.
Like in book 8 of the Little House on the Prarie series, when Almanzo Wilder comes to pick Laura up and take her home every weekend, because she’s teaching school 12 miles (i remember everything!) from home and living with people she hates. So he comes and rescues her every weekend, no matter how bad the weather is. I thought that was the most romantic thing ever.
I’m going home this weekend, because I can’t concentrate and I need to get tons of work done. So its all about lots of delicious Jersey diner coffee, some reading, and lots of Honors Research. That and I’ll probably up-date live journal a lot, because thats what I do when I’m at home, and no one else is home.
Also, I am not a poetry person, but “The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock” is wonderful. The self-consciousness in that poem is awesome. My English-major housemate would kill me for describing Prufrock in such uneloquent terms. Sorry Di!
“I am no prophet- and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker”
“Deferential, glad to be of use
Politic, cautious, and meticulous
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed almost ridiculous
Almost, at times, the Fool.”
I am a loser.
When I need comfort, I read my favorite parts of Atlas Shrugged, partially because reading my copy and my old notes remind me of the first time I read the book Also, I am a hopeless romantic, and Dagny and Rearden are the best literary couple ever.
I also like little snippets of randian wisdom to brighten my day, so I have a website with her quotes bookmarked.
Reason is not automatic Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it. Do not count on them. Leave them alone
Also, I like getting back from class and being in a better mood than when I left. It may have something to do with Evan sitting next to me and writing notes back and forth for 2 hours like middle schoolers.
My Professor, on the Jews “You guys are all right…but…”
Among other things.
And, we need the right to bear arms to shoot stupid people who don’t know what monotheism is.
Also, I was driving around listening to JBJ, and that also put me in a good mood.
Somehow I don’t think Rand would approve of JBJ. But i will attribute the apparent contradiction to the fact that I am a loser who only minutes ago exclaimed “Oh my god, we’re getting cable tomorrow, I can watch the primaries on TV”
And on that note, I’m going to bed
“The wreckage will not become a funeral mount for me, but will serve as a height I have clibed to attain a wider feild of vision. My pride and my power of vision were all I owned when I starter-and whatever I achieved, was achieved by means of them. Both are greater now. Now I have the knowledge of the superlative value I had missed: of my right to be proud of my vision. The rest is mine to reach” -Hank Rearden, Atlas Shrugged
So I’m finished with my Atlas Shrugged Essay, its been submitted and I never want to look at it again. I know I won’t win, because a) its not my best work, by any means and b) its like decathlon. the winning essay never makes any sense and usually sucks. Mine doesn’t suck enough and makes too much sense. If you read the winning essay from 2001 you’ll understand…
I’d post the essay here, but I don’t want to obsess over it. After November 23, when I find out that I didn’t win and can get a free book (!!!) I’ll post it.
Writing this essay only got me more obsessed with the book, but I have to put it away for a few months, because I don’t want to read it and obsess about things I should have put in my essay. I was really limited (only 1000 words) so I had to be concise to a fault. I know some people who read this are currently reading Atlas Shrugged so I won’t go on my other rant about this essay and the part of the book it’s based on, because I don’t want to spoil anything.
In other news:
I am going to kill whoever keeps changing the requirements for an IA minor/major.
Now I have to go to Feminist Political Thought & watch the Lib Fems get upset by the professor’s comments.
